Chapter 73: The King Dies for His Kingdom

Zhao Huan raised his hand to quiet the crowd and said, “This raid will be a near-suicidal mission. But staying behind does not mean survival either. Outside Bianjing, a hundred thousand Jin soldiers are eyeing us like hungry wolves, ready to launch an all-out assault at any moment. Those of you who remain will be the last line of defense for Bianjing.”

At his words, the noisy hall instantly fell silent. Indeed, not everyone could go; this was the place that most needed protection.

“After the fall of Later Tang, Shi Jingtang, the military governor of Hedong, rebelled and established Later Jin, seeking the aid of the Khitan. The Khitan sent troops to help him found Later Jin, and the Liao Emperor became his adoptive father. Shi Jingtang, as demanded, ceded the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun to the Khitan, allowing Liao’s borders to reach the Great Wall. Since then, our dynasty has lost its natural barrier against the steppe tribes.” Zhao Huan spoke slowly to the assembled officers and soldiers.

“Since our founder established the Song, every emperor has longed to reclaim the Sixteen Prefectures and restore our lands. Yet over a hundred years have passed, and those lands remain under foreign occupation. The nation stands defenseless, and the enemy can ride straight in, pillaging and slaughtering at will. Tell me, do you still wish to live like this?” Zhao Huan’s voice rang out.

“No!” Ten thousand voices roared in unison.

“From the day I ascended the throne, I swore: No marriage alliances, no indemnities, no ceding of land, no tribute—let the Son of Heaven guard the gates of the empire, and let the monarch die for his country! I am determined to build an era of unmatched peace and prosperity. Will you help me achieve it?” Zhao Huan called out to the crowd.

“We will!” The passion of ten thousand men was ablaze. All had witnessed Zhao Huan’s deeds since his accession—personally leading campaigns, exhausting himself for the nation—truly embodying the vow that the emperor would defend the gates and die for his realm. They believed that under Zhao Huan’s leadership, the Song would achieve an unparalleled golden age.

“You are all fine sons of our Han nation! I believe in you!” Zhao Huan declared loudly. “And I salute you!”

With that, he drained his cup in a single draught.

The officers and soldiers, stirred by Zhao Huan’s words, did not hesitate; they all drank their wine in one go.

“Now, tell me loudly—when the enemy invades, what will you do?” Zhao Huan raised his cup once more.

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

A thunderous roar shook the heavens.

“Finish this cup—let the whole army set out!” Zhao Huan commanded, draining his wine again, and, just as one might see in dramas of later ages, he hurled his porcelain cup forcefully to the ground.

The officers and soldiers followed suit, draining their cups and smashing them on the ground with a series of sharp cracks.

In the past, when Zhao Huan watched such scenes in dramas, he thought it a terrible waste—so many bowls shattered. But now, in the thick of it, he realized its necessity.

When a person dies, a bowl is broken at home, symbolizing the absence of one more at the table. In this moment, the smashing of cups was a declaration of their resolve to offer their lives for the nation.

The Feiyu Army was Zhao Huan’s true loyalist force. The reason for his stirring words was to awaken the patriotism in every heart, to inspire the men before their departure.

Five thousand men set out under the cover of darkness, clad in black armor. Hidden by the night, they moved like a legion of ghosts, vanishing from the Feiyu Army’s camp into the endless gloom.

When Zhao Huan finally left the Feiyu Army camp, it was close to midnight. He had been so busy that even when he lay down, sleep eluded him—his mind was too full of worries for rest.

The night passed in silence.

The next day, two hundred thousand Western Xia troops reached Guanzhong, encircling it completely, intent on annihilating Wu Jie’s army stationed there.

The vanguard, led by Li Changqi, spent half an hour before the city gates hurling insults—denouncing Song’s treachery, accusing them of assassinating his father and framing others.

But who was Wu Jie? His strength was such that he ranked among the four greatest generals of the Song’s revival. How could he be provoked into battle by a few of Li Changqi’s taunts? It was not fear of Li Changqi that kept him behind the walls, but the overwhelming disparity in numbers—the odds were so stacked that marching out would be nothing short of suicide.

“General, the Song forces refuse to come out and fight. What should we do?” the deputy general asked Li Changqi.

“If they won’t fight, then break the city for me and slaughter every Song soldier within, to appease my father’s spirit!” Li Changqi snarled, thirsting to vent his rage on the Song forces in Guanzhong.

“General, Guanzhong is easy to defend and hard to attack. To assault it rashly may not succeed,” the deputy warned.

“What, you lose heart before the battle even starts? Don’t you dare praise the enemy and belittle our own forces!” Li Changqi snapped in annoyance. Daqing Prefecture had fallen easily to him, which had inflated his confidence and made him underestimate the Song. He overlooked the fact that Daqing’s garrison numbered only two thousand, with no natural defenses—against his fifty thousand-strong vanguard, resistance was futile.

“General, I meant no such thing. But Wu Jie is a famed general of Song, and has held Guanzhong for more than a decade. We must not underestimate him!” the deputy urged.

Li Changqi dismissed him: “I don’t care how formidable he is. In the face of overwhelming strength, all their plots are useless. Pass my orders: the whole army attacks! Tonight, I want Wu Jie’s head! The first man to breach the city will be rewarded with a thousand taels of gold! Charge!”

The deputy wanted to protest further, but seeing Li Changqi’s expression, could only shake his head in resignation. Li Changqi was nothing but a spoiled, inexperienced youth—it was a mystery why His Majesty had put such a man in command. Wasn’t this just sending soldiers to their deaths?

With a single order, fifty thousand Western Xia soldiers surged forward like a tide to storm the city.

Wu Jie stood atop the walls, watching the massed Western Xia army sweep towards him, and could not help but chuckle. Guanzhong was easy to defend, hard to attack, and there was no room to bring up powerful siege engines. What was the enemy commander thinking, sending his men straight into the fray? It was no different from sending them to their deaths.

“Don’t rush to loose your arrows. Wait until they come closer, then fire!” Wu Jie commanded. With two hundred thousand enemies outside the gates, he knew this battle would drag on. He had to conserve arrows and make every shot count.